Another (Lengthy) Dose of Death /// Humble Beginnings, Part 12

I've got some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that this is the third last Humble Beginnings post for my old story. The good news is that the chapter we're covering today is a longer one, from the looks of things. So that'll probably make this post longer too. Yay! Buckle up, children, we're going for a wild ride.

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Don't ask why I called you children or why I included a weird Nicholas Cage gif.

A MESSAGE FROM THE JOSIAH OF THE FUTURE: This post is super long, possibly the longest Humble Beginnings post I've ever written. I debated separating it into two, but decided to keep it as one for simplicity's sake. If you find this too drawn-out or boring, I apologize.

Warren stood beside the rail of one of the rebel warships, pondering on the mystery of Hcol's death. Smits had just told him the news before leaving the sea vessel. Who would kill the prisoner and two knights without an obvious reason?

Personally, I'm not sure why Smits would tell Warren this, as it doesn't really pertain to him. I mean, maybe it's good to know, but I feel like it was done more for the reader's sake than Warren's. Also, some psychopaths just kill without reason, but my first--and perhaps the most obvous--guess is that someone didn't want Hcol spilling the beans about anything. You're a soldier, dude! I'm not one, and that was super easy to think up.

David and Mark neared their friend. "All the ships are set and ready to go," informed David. "We have a transport boat loaded with supplies to bring to the garrison we stop at. Plus, a Follower warship is carrying snow gear in case we need to head over Zracs. All of the treaty papers are in the watercraft as well."

Thanks for the clunky exposition, David. You also forgot to add the word "to" when you mentioned heading over to Zracs. And you used "watercraft" because words like "boat" and "ship" had just been said.

Smits watched them leave. "Godspeed to you, and may Detrius protect you."

Nice POV jump. I'm so glad younger me was committed to sticking with one character's head per scene.

The humans' fort was ample, hidden from sunlight by a rock formation that cast a shadow on the base. There was a cool basement, where the troops slept and got relief from the hot light. It was here that a conversation took place between the Chosen Ones.

Aw, man! What an amazing fortress! I can just totally see it in my mind's eye . . . What do you mean, you can't? There's clearly enough description given. *shakes my head* People these days, wanting more and more details on how places look.

"I don't get it. We're supposed to help find the Chosen Ones, and suddenly we're them," Warren said. "It's not like I don't want to be a Chosen One, but I just think I'm not cut out for the job. It's like there's a weight on my shoulders, now that I know we have to confront Leviathan and Behemoth."

None of us get it, Warren. You're not alone in this struggle.

"Don't worry, Warren," David assured. "Detrius will strengthen us. With Him, we can defeat anyone."

"David, how can you be so calm? I mean, aren't you afraid?" Mark wondered.

 The major shrugged. "Sure I am. Yet I know that Revier has a plan for us. Even if we can't see ourselves being the Chosen Ones, we need to remember that He has a purpose for everything He does."

This scene was my attempt to have them struggling with their new identity. But it never went beyond that, and you have to admit, this is a very weak conversation.

After supper, General Clive, an intelligent rebel, declared the news about the Chosen Ones. When the cheering and clapping diminished, Clive went on to say that the army was going to attack the Rachendax. Laying the plants on the table, he said in his Texas accent, "Alright, here's what we are going to do . . ."

*facepalms* Did I really, really have to specify that Clive was "an intelligent rebel"? Seriously, dude? I'm tempted to cuff younger me upside the head. For the record, it's a Texan accent, not a Texas accent.

As a full moon blazed into the sky, the attacking army left the safety of the garrison. They walked a fair distance before Clive ordered, "Time to separate to two groups. One of thirteen thousand, the other with seven thousand. Let's move, move, move!"

The two contingents went their ways. The larger one was meant to draw out the enemy forces while the smaller went a back way to place the bomb. At a signal, the bigger division would retreat as the bomb was the set and the others backed off. Should the bomb not wreck enough of the castle, the knights would come back and torch the place. Hopefully, their efforts would not be in vain.

I feel as though repeating words like "move" is a stereotypical military thing to do. Plus, if I'd actually had them talk about the plan instead of just dumping it here, it'd be a lot more interesting to read about.

A maraconda stood guard on the top of a tower. His eyes watched the sandy plains, and he occasionally licked his lips with a silvery blue tongue. His body was contorted and twisted, like a rag that was wrung out too much. But there was a contrast to his brown skin: his crystal clear head. A heart sent blood through invisible veins, and the brain rested not far from it.

While I'm genuinely intrigued by my design choice for the maraconda, this is a very clunky way of showing the reader what the race looks like.

Mark and David were in the first battle group. They strode side-by-side to the Rachendax. It was massive, its shape being half a stretched decagon. At each vertice stood a tower, and the back "wall" was a miniature mountain. On it, another tower, this one much taller and wider, rose proudly.

Again, I'm interested by the fortress's design, but the description feels awkward. It doesn't help matters that I forgot that "vertices" is the plural of "vertex."

As the fighters neared, maracondas raced along the walls to small catapults. David recalled from his studies that when a maraconda died, the heart disappeared. But the crafty creatures could play dead by shrinking their heart to a tiny size. Only a very careful observer would notice the micro-organ. So everyone would have to be cautious when assuming a maraconda had been killed.

What is this, a section of cool info written in a lame way? Three strikes and you're out, young me. Well, if that was the case, he'd--I mean, I'd--have been out long ago.

As Mark slid off the battlement to the wide wall's walkway, David ordered sharply, "Duck!" He obeyed, and a knife struck a maraconda, wearing the standard bronze breastplate and black ninja belt, behind Mark. The maraconda gasped and fell off.

Maybe I'm just nitpicking at this point, but this would've required some luck or good skills in a few ways. First, the maraconda would need to take a while in attempting to stab or hurt Mark in some fashion. Second, David would have missed spotting the enemy when he climbed up first. Third, Mark has to react to David fast enough, because I'm assuming that the latter is drawing a knife while he's giving the warning. Like I said, I might be digging too deep with this one, but still.

And please explain why a bricking ninja belt--a black one, no less--is standard-issue. That offers no protection for one's legs.

David set to getting rid of a catapult using his sword, and Mark guarded him with a nocked bow. Three arabon suddenly appeared, charging at the soldiers. Mark fired and watched the arrow go through one's heart and into the next's calf. The arabon screamed and spun around, slicing off the head of the third behind him. Another arrow slammed forcefully in his neck, causing him to collapse.

I'd really like to know what physical requirements are necessary for an arrow to pass through one body and enter another so that the second victim somehow turns fast enough, with a sword at the right angle, to behead the third dude behind him. Seems kinda iffy, but who am I to question it?

Correct me if I'm wrong, but shouldn't Mark get in a few rapid-fire shots rather than merely standing there and watching his arrows? If he misses, it gives the enemy (who have shown up out of the blue, even though this is on a tall castle wall) the opportunity to get close enough to kill him. I also feel like a sword isn't the best way to ruin a catapult . . . Speaking of which, is there no one manning it? Are they destroying it so that the baddies can't? It's not like the catapults are shooting themselves.

The Canadian came over to [David] and began to force the wheel to the left. The job wasn't as easy as it first looked, and their palms grew damp and clammy with sweat.

"Yikes," growled Mark. "I could do with some more exercise. This baby's tough and uncooperative." He glanced behind him. "You know, we're pretty exposed here, because we'd rather not stop and there is no protection for us."

"Except for Detrius," David uttered. "But don't worry, all the baddies are engaged in combat."

Guys, stop talking already! You're wasting your breath conversing when you should be focusing on getting the Rachendax's doors open. David's religious utterance felt forced, and he should know that by saying what he said, he's going to summon bad guys. (You're not allowed to say "baddies;" that's my thing.) Besides, don't you think that if enemy troops noticed that the doors were being opened, stopping Mark and David would become one of their top priorities? They should be rushed right now by a group of maraconda or something.

At his words, a group of maraconda appeared. Catching sigh of the humans, they used their defected legs to run awkwardly at them.

"Well, all except them," David said. "We have to open the gates before they get here."

"Already on that," Mark informed. The two put all their muscle behind the work, and the doors were opening, only at a slow pace. The maracondas neared quickly, raising their swords in anticipation for bloodshed.

What'd I tell ya? Realistically speaking, I think the two heroes should be dead at this point, but that'd ruin the story . . . maybe.

 David prayed, "Help us, Detrius. We need your strength." Mark added an amen.

Just as the maracondas were in front of the gates, it was like Revier's legnas had given a mighty push. The doors slammed into the walls beside them, and the battering rams, in mid-swing, careened into the Ghrumet creatures, sending them soaring through the air until their bodies smashed upon the ground.

"If this was a bowling game," Mark remarked, "I think the guys operating the battering rams got a strike."

More faith stuff that feels a little inorganic combined with brutal death and comedic jokes made about said death. This story in a nutshell, basically. Wait, why did I use "remark" as a speaker tag for Mark?

David chuckled and watched the rebel and Follower knights pour inside the Rachendax. Some went through the entrance, and some used the siege towers. And as everyone came into the open space, he also espied no other resistance. Then it clicked. "It's a trap!" he cried.

His warning was too late. Multiple doors to barracks in the mountain, letting maracondas and arabons swarm out. They formed a massive ring around the humans. Commander Ryle of the arabon unsheathed his scimitar and yelled, "Kill them all!"

The foes closed in.

And annihilated everybody. The end.

How convenient that not a single knight notices that the enemy has disappeared, and they all show up the instant David recognizes that it's a Star Wars reference. (Seriously, how can you not hear that line in Admiral Ackbar's voice?) You may have also noticed that I never specified what the barracks' doors did, only that creatures poured out. I seem to have forgotten or messed up a lot of words in this particular chapter.

source; a relevant picture that breaks up the text (you're welcome)

General Clive's sidekick Ethan led the smaller group around the back of the mountain. Large rocks lay in various places against the cliff. Ethan went to the biggest one and ordered several of the troops to roll the boulder, Warren being part of the selected. He went to the rock and pushed hard. Soon, a tunnel was revealed and the knights entered.

Sidekick? How about a military term like lieutenant or something? Give me a break. And man, that Dwayne Johnson. Always blocking the entrance to secret tunnels in evil lairs that the good guys probably shouldn't even know about.

The hallways were dark, and Warren felt they were quite confusing. But he knew they were going up, which was their purpose.

I . . . I just . . . I have no words, except that we can all really sense what Warren must be feeling in this difficult time.

Warren sniffed the air. "What is that smell?"

"Incense," Ethan growled. "This is a place of worship for Lurkum. They believe he's some god who is going to bring down Detrius." He snorted, then muttered an obscenity. "Where are the guards?"

Well, if this story's done one thing, it's made me look up what incense smells like on Google, because I'm curi--no, don't say that, Ethan! You'll--

As if like an answer, two maracondas approached them from shadows. Almost all maracondas were only five feet, but these were seven feet. Spindly limbs were replaced with thick ones. They wore a silver breastplate and balaclava with a red belt. By the way one held his halberd and the other a scythe, Warren assumed they were elite fighters.

--summon more enemies. When will people learn? I'd also like to just remind everyone that the Rachendax is in Ghrumet, which is the desert continent. So there is absolutely no need to wear a balaclava, not unless it gets super cold at night.

The first one chopped a solider in half and pierced another. Both Warren and Ethan made a swing at him, but the maraconda blocked with the halberd's staff. He stabbed at the two, and Warren jumped back while Ethan met the attack. The man nodded quickly towards the maraconda with the scythe, indicating that Warren needed to get him.

Yup, the violence is going to start picking up again from here on. You've been warned.

The assassin had already cleaved six knights, and Warren wasn't going to let him add more to his tally. He lunged at the maraconda, who parried at the last possible moment. The guard growled and whipped his scythe around at stomach level. Warren propelled himself backward, trying to avoid the weapon. The blade still sliced through a weak spot in the armor and cut open some of Warren's skin. The Chosen One felt blood soak into his tunic instantly. There was another swing, one Warren dodged, before he responded with a hack of his sword at the fighter's hand. The maraconda pulled back, but his thumb plunked on the ground, the scythe following. The guard made a fist, and long knives protruded from devices that were attached to leather wrist armor.

Dang, that was a long paragraph. I could've easily made that two, or maybe even three. But why are my main characters obsessed with cutting off bad guys' fingers? It's a weird thing to do. And don't get me started on calling Warren the Chosen One for one sentence there.

The creature batted his claws at his opponent and Warren moved away. He tried again, and again Warren eluded the movement. Now he was frustrated, so he began a series of attacks that an average person couldn't escape from. Unfortunately for the maraconda, Warren didn't fit the description.

Warren had put his sword away and, just as the guard finished a desperate slash, grapped the thing's arms and hurled him up mightily. The assassin hit the monument of Lurkum, and a pop rang as his spine dislocated. The maraconda wheezed and tumbled off, landing in one of the pots. A sickly odor of burning flesh and incense arose around the sanctuary. Warren crinkled his nose and thought, "Maraconda flambé is definitely not on my menu."

Oh, gosh, where to begin? Well, how about that awful paragraph that could've been so cool, but was instead so lame? I could think of so many ways to make that fight between the elite maraconda and Warren much more interesting (and believable--why aren't the other soldiers attacking too?). Then I totally misspell "grabbed," and throw in a bit of spinal injuries and burns for good measure. Someone needs to take thirteen-year-old me to a psychologist or something!

He turned in time to witness Ethan run through the remaining guard with his sword. The assassin crumpled, causing Ethan to rotate toward his men and pumped his fist. The knights cheered and clapped quietly for their commander's victory. But the maraconda had only pretended to be killed, and now, unseen by all except Warren, raised his halberd for the death blow. Warren noticed, however, and withdrew his hammer before pitching it at the creature. The hammer crashed heavily into the side of it's target's head. He gave a dying scream as the glass shattered and blood rushed from his open veins.

To quote Markiplier, "I have so many questions!" Do these people actually know about fist pumping? Why does Ethan change from present to past tense? Why are all the soldiers seemingly blind and the main characters not when it comes to noticing enemies or the lack thereof? Aren't halberds long enough that you'd see one moving? Why did I use "it's" instead of "its"? As for the death, that was somehow both really disgusting and really cool at the same time.

For the sake of moving the post along, I won't include everything that happens next. But just so you know what's going on, Ethan apologized for getting cocky (I think the knights should apologize for being lazy). Ethan comments on how it'll be ironic that the idol of Lurkum will be one of the first things to blow up--pretty sure he doesn't know what ironic means--and lights the bomb, then everyone runs out.

A sense of being lost washed through Warren again as they treaded the labyrinth of passageways. "This is random . . . but what does the word . . . Rachendax mean?" Warren asked Ethan.

"It means maze," the man panted. "Some claim . . . one can 'move' the walls . . . to block the entry of . . . various halls."

They were lagging behind a little when, all of a sudden, a thick wall slammed down from the roof, preventing them to continue that way.

When will you guys learn? Stop talking to save your breath for action! I bet if they'd ran without having that conversation, they would've still been with the rest of the group. This story is so very illogical sometimes. Not to mention its terrible grammar and spelling that poke up on a regular basis.

Before Ethan replied, a massive silhouette appeared in front of them and grabbed him, freezing Warren with his frightful orange eyes. Using his free hand, Leviathan clawed his way in Ethan's chest. He ripped out the general's assistant's heart. Ethan trembled, and then folded over, a victim of the dragon. Leviathan plopped the heart in his mouth and crunched down on it, sending a splat of blood across Warren's face. "Mmm," he mumbled, red saliva splashing down his jaw. "Still warm.

Okay, that is . . . vile, and gross, and completely unnecessary. Seriously, I'm getting uncomfortable just writing that out again. I swear, the nastiest deaths in this story have to do with hearts. *remembers Ssen's death* Or throats.

Why'd I call Ethan an assistant this time? I thought he was a sidekick. Whatever the case, at least he's dead now. There are far too many insignificant, boring secondary characters to keep track of. (To fill you in again, Warren gags and cries about what just unfolded. Leviathan, disgusted, knocks him out. Bye-bye, Warren. It was nice knowing ya.)

Meanwhile, Baron Narris of the maraconda strode down the stairs where he had stood when the fight occurred. Lifting the bomb, he said to himself, "I think it will be very ironic when, in an attempt to crush Lurkum, the rebels will crush themselves."

He went back up the flight of stairsteps that led to his chambers and let the fuse almost disappear. He peered out a wide window, saw where the most of the human army was, and chucked the weapon out.

Now that's what irony is, Ethan. Take note in the afterlife. Also, "the most of the human army"? What're we, five? How did I ever think that was proper grammar?

Also also, I just realized a huge inconsistency while reading this. *takes a deep breath* Why the actual brick are the rebels attacking Lurkum now if they let his army march through their port city earlier in the story? MAKE UP YOUR EVER-LOVING MINDS, PEOPLE! Who is your enemy: the Followers or Lurkum and his hooligans? And if they were forced to let the opposing army dock in their city and head for Malanthiv from there, we were never told, or given the slightest indication that was the case. For all the readers know, the rebels are just a bunch of jerkfaces. This frustrates me like you wouldn't believe. *smacks younger me upside the head* Get your act together, man.

The sealing noose of enemies suddenly dispersed. "Huh?" said Mark. "What is going on?"

There was a plunk, and Clive shouted, "Fire in the hole!" Everyone scattered away from the bomb, only it was too late. A thunderous explosion rippled in the air, smoke dancing to the sky. Mark glimpsed fellow knights being incinerated instantly, others falling to the sand and having their life drain right for their eyes to see.

Here we have Mark at the peak of his intelligence. Again, would they know about the "fire in the hole" expression, especially since it originated with miners? And if this bomb was supposed to bring down a fortress, you'd think everyone--bad guys included--would be dead right about now. (The scene continues with Clive and Taylor, who seems to have randomly shown up just so I can use him again, telling Mark and David that they need to leave for Zracs immediately.)

"And what about Warren?" asked David.

Flapping reached their ears, and Leviathan's shadow covered them. "If you want your friend," he taunted, "you'll have to get him yourself." Chuckling menacingly, he soared off, hefting Warren.

Why is Leviathan capturing Warren? He doesn't know that Warren's a Chosen One, so there's really no need to keep him alive. I double-checked, and there was never any sign that Ian or Alex found out about the three Earthlings being the ones in the prophecy. As far as the enemy is concerned, the Chosen Ones are still Reuben, Lance, and Xander. The icing on the cake is Leviathan's cliché dialogue and cheesy laughing as he flies off.

"Yes, sir." [Taylor, Mark, and David] ran toward some available horses, and, after mounting them, began the ride to the fort. While his steed galloped onward, Mark turned to the Rachendex, taking in the brave men who might be sacrificing their lives for him. Water choked his eyes, and his throat caught. Mark set his gaze ahead.

He never looked back again.

I'm getting some Prince Caspian movie vibes from this. Oh, and that water choking your eyes, Mark? Those are tears. (One more summary of what happens next: Clive tarries until the trio is further away before giving the call for a retreat. His cry is heard through the well in the secret tunnel, and those guys all leave too.)

Maraconda and arabon jeered at the receding army. "Should we give chase?" one questioned Ryl.

Ryl shook his head. "They've lost, and they know it. That's good enough."

As the sun set, one might notice that more red than green blood stained the ground. And in that blood rested ashes.

But if you pursue them, you could potentially kill more and earn brownie points with Leviathan. He'll roast you if you don't do a good job, and I don't mean the insulting kind of roast. I used to think that ending paragraph was cool and kind of poetic, but now it's just like, "Okay, sure, people I didn't care about died. Whoop-dee-doo."

And that's finally it! I'm sorry that this turned into such a monstrous post. Though I'm 75% certain you won't mind, since this is ending soon. What'd you think? Did you get your fill of laughs and sarcasm? I'm sure we all got more than our fair share of graphic character deaths.